Mind palace: Not home without you
by 11loves mycroft
Summary: John's dream, no Sherlock's dream, or maybe it's real life. Just a short fic I wrote for my friend. Please leave a review. May add more.


**I know I'm bad at writing but I thought I'd upload it anyway. Thank you Jawn for the beta.**

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Sherlock is sitting cross legged and looks at you and smiles yet is not looking at you but more through you as if he can see the "inner you". He looks back down at the novel or book that he was looking at and starts to skim through, again you wonder if can he see you.

"No no of course he can't, I'm not even in his mind, wait am I dreaming this?"

"No," Sherlock answers without looking up "I'm dreaming this obviously."

"Oh," John said a bit shocked. Sherlock was sleeping.

"Come along, John." Sherlock pulled John down the stairwell in into a few rooms. First the music room then the library, John mumbling praises of brilliant, fantastic, and amazing. Sherlock played a beautiful melody from the 1800s, and in the library Sherlock handed John a book that read 'Maurice by E.M. Forster'

"Um thanks." John looked confused but held on to it.

"Oh, John write something on my arm!"

"Okay..."

"Oh, just do it!" John pulls out a marker and writes, 'DON'T FORGET TO EAT' "Thank you. Let's continue, shall we?"

"Uh yeah." Sherlock smiles a genuine smile and strides elegantly down a spiral staircase and into an observatory. "Why on earth do you have a observatory in your head?"

"I like to star gaze, John, I don't have to know how space works to enjoy it."

"Huh. I never took you for much of a stargazer." John looked at him with a smirk that turned into a full blown smile. A smile also blossomed on Sherlock's face.

"And most people would assume you're good with women." they both laughed and John says, "Hey, that's not funny," through his chuckles. They then worked their way through what looked to be a room of file cabinets full of information on high profile people. Then John asked,

"What did your childhood home look like?" and his memory surfaced. A beige and burgundy house surrounds them and John catches a glimpse of a dog. "Sherlock, did you have a dog?" John looks at Sherlock who looks like he's trying not to cry. John pulls Sherlock in to an embrace and rubs his back. "Are you okay?" Sherlock sobs,

"His name is Red Beard."

"It's okay Sherlock," John cooed. "what is so sad about him?"

"I was young and stupid and believed he'd gone away to my Aunt's house."

"Oh Sherlock..." John frowned and hugged him tighter. Sherlock wiped away his tears and straitened up.

"Um, thanks for that," Sherlock said and looked away from embarrassment at his emotional state. They strolled into the house and John smiled at how normal it all seemed. "So that's the house I lived in as a child."

"Do you have a favorite memory here? It's a lovely place."

"I use to play deductions with Mycroft when we were children," Sherlock smiled fondly at the memory. "So John, let's go somewhere else." Sherlock pulled John to a room of tobacco ash, wool, boot measurements, and different shades of lipstick.

"Well this all must be useful... Wait there's a door at the other side, what's in there?" The door is labeled Home.

"Oh, nothing."

"Sherlock, it says home." John opens the door and sees nothing but his chair. "Umm, why does the room only have my chair in it?"

"Well..." John walks in and sits on his chair and 221B comes in to form around him.

"Uh, Sherlock, explain."

"221B Baker St. Isn't home without you, as you can see." John looked pleasantly shocked.

"That has to be one of the greatest things you have ever said."

"And one of the most true, John. You make our flat not only a place I reside, but a place I have memories." Sherlock smiled and turned to leave. John turns him around and gives him a big hug. Sherlock stood there and awkwardly pats him on the back.

John starts to wake up, sleep still stuck in his eyes and his hair ruffled. John sighs and stretches his limbs, still laying in bed. John turns his head lazily and sees a book on the night stand. His brow furrows as he read the title. John quickly runs down the stairs to see Sherlock sleeping. Just peeking out of his sleeves it says 'DON'T FORGET TO EAT'. John smirks, 'Maybe it was real.'

to be continued perhaps


End file.
